


Of Farmers Markets and Used Book Fairs

by RavenclawAngel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: ...that's not Crowley, Books, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Jealousy, M/M, a handsome snake..., farmers market, minor miracles, wildlife rescue agencies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 14:17:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19336222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenclawAngel/pseuds/RavenclawAngel
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley enjoy a morning at the farmers market. Well, Aziraphale does at least. Crowley, not so much.





	Of Farmers Markets and Used Book Fairs

**Author's Note:**

> The Good Omen's TV show has renewed my love of Aziraphale and Crowley and this fandom! I had to jump back in and write something for it and this plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone. Leave a comment if you like the story or just want to gush with me over how great Good Omen's is!

Since the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t things had been mysteriously appearing at Crowley’s flat. Well, not just any old things, Aziraphale’s things. A book here, a cup of tea there, the angel himself on his couch. This continued up until the moment Aziraphale got it into his head that after four centuries of living in London he quite fancied a break from city life, and within the span of a weekend had packed up everything and moved to South Downs.

Crowley found his flat back to its original state of sleek emptiness. He frowned. It had been a long time since he had tempted the good people of

Aziraphale didn’t say anything when Crowley’s things began appearing in his cottage. He just smiled as if the whole thing was ineffable and helped Crowley move in the rest of his plants.

That was almost a year ago and they’d fallen into a very comfortable routine since then. Aziraphale read, Crowley terrorized his garden, and any thwarting or wiling they did was purely for fun.

Today Aziraphale is not doing any thwarting. Instead he is watching Crowley yelling at a rosebush through the window with a warm cozy feeling. Only half paying attention he leafs through the morning paper. (Something he still insists on getting despite Crowley showing him how to bring up news on “The Google.”) He stops when he comes across a brightly colored add.

**Farmer’s Market**

**Fun for the whole family**

**Produce – Crafts – Used Books Fair**

**10 AM – 3 PM**

               

Aziraphale pauses. Used books. He glances around the cottage at the various stuffed bookshelves and piles of books that had filled the spaces between Crowley’s plants. He could certainly do with a few more books.

~*~*~*~

Crowley rolls his eyes as Aziraphale shows him the advertisement. The angel doesn’t ask directly, he just shoots him one of his patented pleading looks and Crowley’s resolve crumples. He had briefly tried to put up some sort of a fuss. His garden provided better produce than any vendor there could. He refused to let the cottage become stuffed with handcrafted trinkets. And heaven and hell both knew that the last thing Aziraphale needed was more books.

Yet somehow he still finds himself in the Bentley with a very satisfied angel in the passenger seat. Once there, for all his grumbling, Crowley has to admit that he doesn’t hate it. He does have to drag Aziraphale away from a stand selling homemade soaps. He refuses to have the cottage smelling of honeysuckle and sage, but then he stumbles upon a tent selling strawberry plants that intrigue him.

Suddenly he feels a tug on his sleeve. He pulls himself away from a very relieved plant.

“Oh look!” Aziraphale says excitedly, “those nice people are raising money for wildlife rescue.”

Crowley watches Aziraphale practically bounce over to donate to the group of young adults. He saunters behind, arranging his face to an uninterested scowl so nobody asks him for money.

A cheerful young woman greets them both and launches into her spiel. Crowley can see Aziraphale’s eyes go wider as he hears about all the poor wild animals hit by cars or abused by people that think a wild animal counts as a pet. Then they hear all about the wonderful service the agency provides rehabilitating the animals as best they can on a shoestring budget.

“Oh very good. You’re working miracles every day,” Aziraphale says and pats her hand. Crowley feels the slight burst of holy energy. The foundation will never want for money now.

“We try,” she says, “would you like to meet some of the animals we rescued?”

She leads Aziraphale into the tent. Crowley follows. Inside is a cacophony of animal noises. Several volunteers hold various birds, lizards, and snakes. More rest comfortably in cages.

“They can’t be released back into the wild, but we use them to educate the public about our cause.” She explains. She guides them to a small owl.

“This little guy was hit by a car. His wing was mostly repaired, but he’ll never really fly as well as he used to.”

Crowley can feel another miracle building.

“He has lovely plumage,” Aziraphale says, “don’t you agree Crowley?”

“I saw all the lovely plumage I wanted to see last night,” Crowley says poking Aziraphale between the shoulder blades, where his wings are tucked away. Aziraphale turns bright red. Crowley smirks and saunters away to inspect a lizard that has been making eyes at him. He really should drag Aziraphale away from here before every animal has suspiciously miraculous recoveries or worse, Aziraphale decides to adopt something cute and cuddling. Crowley scowls, he will not have some baby animal prancing around his garden and snuggling up on Aziraphale’s lap while he reads at night.

“Oh, aren’t you a handsome fellow.”

Crowley rolls his eyes and turns to see what bird the angel is cooing at now. Only he’s not cooing at any bird. It’s a snake, a four foot long dark green snake. The volunteer cradles the snake proudly.

“His name is Salazar. Not many people appreciate snakes.” She says, holding the snake protectively, as if afraid Aziraphale won’t like him. Crowley grins, Aziraphale watched every animal created enter the garden, and cared for most of them on Noah’s ark. As if he would ever reject one of God’s creatures, especially of the snake variety.

“A very proper name for a very dashing snake,” Aziraphale says and pats the snake’s head. The snake hisses and looks at him with bright yellow eyes.

“Do you want to hold him?” She asks. Aziraphale claps, “Oh that would just be lovely.”

She hands over the snake, who promptly winds his way up Aziraphale’s arm and around the back of his neck. Aziraphale giggles.

“My you are a playful one.”                                                                                             

The snake meets Crowley’s eyes over Aziraphale’s shoulder. Crowley glares, it’s one thing for Aziraphale to love all creatures from afar – it’s practically in his job description as an angel – it’s another thing completely to cuddle them. Furthermore the back of Aziraphale’s neck is reserved for just one snake, thank you very much. Salazar hisses lazily at him before sliding down Aziraphale’s chest to wrap himself around the angels waist.

The cheek. The absolute cheek of him. Crowley hisses back, catching Salazar’s attention. Then deliberately Crowley lowers his sunglasses. Snake eyes meet snake eyes. Salazar cocks his head at this man who is not a man, but is not quite a snake either. Salazar’s never seen a being like him before. Nor has he seen anything like the being holding him. The man shaped being feels perfectly warmed, like a hot rock on a summer day and smells earthy, like a garden that Salazar can’t quite remember ever being in. Salazar wraps himself tighter around the angel, ignoring the hiss of outrage from the not-a-man-or-a-snake-being next to him.

“Oh you really quite a swell fellow,” Aziraphale hums. Crowley turns his glare from the snake to the angel, not that Aziraphale notices. Salazar’s tongue flicks out and Crowley watches him taste Aziraphale’s wrist.

Humans, and angels for that matter, have a very difficult time deciphering snake expressions. Even Aziraphale fails at reading the facial expression of any snake not named Crowley, who has always been rather expressive even while a snake. Crowley, however, has no such difficulty. At this moment he can clearly see the blissed out contentment on Salazar’s face. Salazar settles in comfortably, as if he belongs wrapped around the angel and Aziraphale does nothing to dissuade him of that notion as he continues to coo and fuss over him in true Aziraphale fashion.

“Angel, don’t you have a used book fair to visit?” Crowley snaps, harsher than he means to. Aziraphale cocks his head.

“Yes, I suppose so.” He says. The volunteer helps disentangle Salazar from around Aziraphale.

“Sorry, he’s not normally this clingy.” She says as Salazar tries to wind himself up Aziraphale’s arm. Crowley taps his foot impatiently.

“Not to worry. I think I have that effect on snakes.” Aziraphale says, “Now just let me know where your donation box is and I’ll be on my way. What you do is truly blessed.”

~*~*~*~

Back out in the sunlight Crowley shoves his hands deep in his pocket and storms by a vendor selling flower bulbs with barely a glance. Aziraphale follows after him.

“Wasn’t that just wonderful? I took one of their pamphlets. It says they help over 200 animals a year. It’s so good to see humanity doing something so kind for the animals. It reminds me of Noah.” Aziraphale chatters, “And Salazar was just lovely. Did you see the shade of green he was? He reminds me of the snakes that used to hang around your garden in Babylon.”

Aziraphale’s smile fades as Crowley doesn’t answer. He purses his lips in confusion. Crowley ignores it. Unfortunately for him after 6,000 years, there’s little about him that can confuse Azirphale for long. A knowing look passes over Aziraphale’s face. He takes Crowley’s hand, and before Crowley can pull away, tugs him behind one of the tents, out of view of the bustling crowd of shoppers.

“Love,” he starts sweetly, “please tell me you weren’t getting jealous of the snake back there.”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous,” Crowley sputters, looking everywhere but Aziraphale’s face. Aziraphale waits him out patiently and when Crowley does sneak a glance at him, he merely raises one perfect eyebrow.

“Just because he was wrapped up around you like some kind of hussy. That doesn’t mean I’m jealous.” Crowley says. A smile tugs on the corner of Aziraphale’s lip.

“Right of course.” Aziraphale says, “Then there’s no need for me to remind you that you are the only snake like creature I want to take home from the market.”

“You can remind me of that…If you want…” Crowley mumbles. This earns him a laugh and one of Aziraphale’s radiant smiles.

“You silly old serpent,” He says shaking his head with fond exasperation. He kisses Crowley’s cheek before pulling him back out amongst the humans.

“Now come on, we have a used book fair to see.” Aziraphale says. Crowley laces their fingers together.

“Wherever you want to go angel.” He says softly, allowing Aziraphale to pull him in the direction of old books and further away from Salazar and any other snake that may be coveting his angel.  


End file.
